Month: March 2010

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An Atheist Meets God

By Jim Spiegel

Anyone familiar with the philosophical history of atheism knows that twentieth century British scholar A. J. Ayer is one of the most prominent atheists of the modern period.  He was a leading figure in the movement known as Logical Positivism, and his Language, Truth, and Logic is one of the definitive statements of this radical empiricist orientation.  Like other positivists, Ayer did not merely reject theism as false but insisted that the claim that there is a God is cognitively meaningless.  (He made the same claim about moral statements, by the way, which he claimed to be nothing more than expressions of emotion.)

Toward the end of his life, Ayer had a near death experience, the content of which he reported in his fascinating essay “What I Saw When I Was Dead.”  Upon its publication, many were surprised to learn that, despite this seemingly supernatural experience, Ayer did not budge from his atheism but remained convinced that there is no God.  Indeed, for a long time after reading the essay, I was puzzled over this.

But twelve years later Ayer’s attending physician, Dr. Jeremy George, revealed that Ayer might not have been completely forthcoming about his experience and the actual conclusion he drew from it.  Dr. George claimed that Ayer confided to him, “I saw a divine being.”  Then Ayer added, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to revise all my various books and opinions.”  Well, now that’s quite a confession.  If true, Ayer’s change of mind would certainly rival that of Antony Flew in terms of significance.  Indeed, if Flew had a challenger in the twentieth century as the “the world’s most notorious atheist” (as the subtitle of Flew’s recent book tags him), Ayer is probably it.

But is Dr. George’s account to be trusted?  Read Peter Foges’ recent essay in Lapham’s Quarterly, entitled “An Atheist Meets the Masters of the Universe”, and judge for yourself.  I would also recommend reading all of the comments that follow.  It’s an instructive conversation that well illustrates the fundamental differences in outlook between theists and atheists.

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Leading the Way to the Middle Ground

By Amy Spiegel

One of the cool, and often exasperating, things about being a parent is that you get to be somewhat omniscient. Not in the observing-the-thoughts-of-billions-people-at-once kind of way, but rather in the seeing-things-from-multiple-perspectives sense. Each time a disagreement breaks out in the bathtub or backseat, I have the privilege seeing both sides of the argument. (Okay sometimes at least one side of the argument consists of “Poo-poo head,” but even there, they might have a point, figuratively speaking that is.). Sometimes, though, it feels less like a privilege and more like a burden. Like an engrossed tennis spectator, I turn from one side to another, ping-ponging back and forth trying to establish peace on earth and goodwill toward men, or at least to prevent bloodshed at bath time. One of the most infuriating aspects of being the all-seeing eye in my children’s lives is that often those on both sides of a disagreement are right.

Whether it is my experience of the battlefield of parenthood or just a by-product of growing older, more and more I find myself questioning certain previously held ideas regarding conflicting points of view. Renowned for my overly opinionated nature, of late I have found myself not apathetic but perhaps sympathetic to both sides in some rather crucial areas of debate, all of which involve not just a matter of differing opinions but a difference of worldview. When your starting points are diametrically opposed, how can you ever come to an agreement? And if agreement is impossible to achieve, why bother arguing?

Don’t get me wrong. I haven’t turned relativist on you. When two people begin with the same assumptions and yet reach differing conclusions, I think debate a worthwhile exercise. For example, at a recent dinner party, a discussion arose over a character familiar to anyone in the single digit age range or those who spend a great deal of time with said age range. The debate concerned whether or not Dora the Explorer promotes a gracious attitude towards sinners or a permissive view of sin. One side argued that Dora’s loving approach to Swiper the Fox teaches children forgiveness and grace. The other side (also known as the people who are right about this issue) maintained that the show’s refusal to shun Swiper despite his lack of repentance teaches children that bad behavior reaps no bad consequences. Now, seen in a certain light, there is no reconciling these two views because there are aspects of truth on both sides. But one could also say that both views are like two sides of a coin, all part of the truth, just seen from different angles.

But what if you aren’t dealing in the same worldview currency? What if the assumed values are so incompatible that it is like comparing apples to oranges? Take the heated and historic political debate which has occupied the minds of so many of us over the past several months. On one side, you have people who believe healthcare is a human right; government intervention is necessary in order to reduce healthcare costs and provide everyone with coverage. On the other side, you have people who believe that extending the umbrella of human rights in order to include healthcare is a dangerous precedent; that tort reform is more appropriate than nationalizing the healthcare system. Of course, these views are held along a spectrum with few on the extremes of either end. Even so, it seems unlikely that many will meet in the middle. Ironically, it seems the trouble here is that both sides want to get to the same place (affordable healthcare for any who care to have it) but have chosen drastically different modes of getting there. While I have little tolerance for politicians engaging in bribery and deceit in order to ensure victory for their side, I feel empathy for those who sincerely desire to see change for the underprivileged and more opportunities for all. I keep asking myself, “If I were them and heard me (not as them but as myself), what would I (as them) think?” Maybe this is where we can learn something from our friend Dora. According to Wikipedia “Dora has a positive view of the characters she meets, failing even to hold a grudge against the mischievous fox Swiper… She acts against villains only when it seems that compromise is impossible, and even in these cases, fails to display actual anger.” It might seem a bit childish, but maybe there’s some wisdom there. Should we model this approach? Well, then, as the theme song goes, “You can lead the way! Hey! Hey!”

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The “Pray for an Atheist” Campaign

By Jim Spiegel

Several folks, including myself, have launched a Facebook page entitled Pray for an Atheist.  As you may know, April 1 has been celebrated in the past as “National Atheists Day,” and in the first week of April is held the American Atheists National Convention.  So we thought it would be a good idea to encourage Christians to commit to praying for atheists for the entire month of April.  If you would like to get involved, please become a “fan” of the page.

As you’ll see on the page, however, a number of atheists are strongly objecting to the idea that Christians are praying for them.  As one atheist put it, “if you’re going to pray for me and my ilk, that is quite disrespectful.”  And another said, “I personally find it offensive if anybody wants to pray for me.”  There have been many other expressions of disapproval, some profane and vulgar (which have been deleted).

I can’t help but think—as some people have pointed out—that all of this vitriol confirms the thesis of my book.  Atheists simply have no reason to object to our praying for them, especially since, given our worldview, it is an act of love.  After all, if God does exist, then it would be an enormous benefit to atheists if they come to believe this.  Moreover, as a Christian, it would be profoundly hypocritical of me to believe that prayer could be effectual in helping others to find redemption in Christ and yet not pray for unbelievers.

Therefore, I would ask atheists to respect my right to do what I want in the privacy of my own home, as I kneel in prayer on their behalf.

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Tips for Working Out

By Amy Spiegel

Several weeks back some friends treated us to a weekend away at their family cottage in Michigan. While snow fell gracefully outside, my dear friend and I sat catching up on recent events. She chanced to mention that she was helping to train a group of novice runners for this spring’s mini-marathon in Indianapolis. Sitting curled up all fat and a little less than happy about my current need to wear only pants designed with a drawstring, I wondered out loud if I should consider taking up running. I have never been the running type, but was curious to see if I could do it.

Taylor University has an excellent student activities center, but after a disastrous attempt at running around the indoor track, I opted for the treadmill. As many can tell you, I am definitely an externally motivated gal, and I have hit it off pretty well with the conveyor belt of health. A few months in, I am feeling like a pro and thought I would share some bits of wisdom, and some folly as well, that I have picked up on my road to nowhere.

1. Securing the iPod is essential. If you are like me (i.e. cheap) and refuse to pay $20 for a piece of elastic in order to securely fasten your iPod, then you might want to reconsider the iPod altogether or come up with an alternative plan for ensuring that your precious bundle of handcrafted playlists doesn’t go flying down the treadmill. Yes, this has happened to me—twice on my first go. To make matters worse, a gentleman hurried over at the sound of screeching tennis shoes (the sound of me chasing after my iPod) and then announced in a loud voice “It’s okay! It was only her iPod!” Just the icing my humiliating incident needed—thank you, sir. A little P.S.: still refusing to pay good money for the armband, I created an iPod snuggie of sorts by cutting off the sleeves of an old fleece. I sweat like a pig but no more skidding after my possessions.

2. There is no reason to have words printed on your bum, even if it is scripture. The trend of placing various phrases and slogans on your behind has long baffled me. Ladies, if you are under 30, I guarantee you, men need no inducement to check out your rear. If you are over 30 like me, no one should be looking at your bumper, even you. Even if you have carefully chosen words from the Bible, as I’ve witnessed, we are all better off in a world free of butt literature.

3. Do not try to gain moral superiority by pretending to read a book while exercising. I am not buying it. Maybe if you came in with a People magazine or a comic book, I might be convinced that you are capable of reading and moving your legs at a rapid pace. But beyond that, plug in your ear buds and get off your high horse.

4. Never—I repeat—never, ever, ever look at the person on the treadmill next to you in order to check out their speed, etc. Unless your ninety-year-old grandmother is jogging beside you, chances are the person next to you is going faster.

5. Judge not lest you be judged; or think not yourself to be judged for in truth by judging others guilty of judging you, you are really judging them and therefore judging yourself. Got that? Perhaps an example will help. You see someone looking in the general directions of your sadly sagging abs. You take the high ground and think how terrible it is that people can’t come and workout in peace without sizing up other people’s mid-sections. But perhaps that person wasn’t even looking at your middle and all these thoughts are more a reflection of your values and perceptions than theirs. You hate your bulging belly so you look for others to feel the same. Take the real high ground, smile back at anyone looking your way and keep on moving. Maybe, if you (and I) can put those hang-ups behind us, we really will get somewhere after all.

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God Judges Animals?

By Jim Spiegel

Amy and I have practiced what we call a “cruelty-free diet” for more than a decade.  We do this out of a conviction that it’s the least we can do to avoid moral complicity with the factory farming system in our country, which is so horribly inhumane to cows, pigs, and chickens.  (I defy anyone to see what goes on in those places and not be disturbed by the extreme cruelty of it all.)  We’re hardly radicals, but the little we do is aimed at honoring what we regard as a biblical duty of compassion toward animals.

There are numerous Scriptural passages that speak to the moral significance of our treatment of animals.  There is a biblical duty of compassion for animals, and this has implications for the dinner table as well as the backyard.  (See, for example, Exod. 23:12, Deut. 25:4, Psalm 50:10-11, Psalm 104, and Prov. 12:10.)

Recently, as I’ve been reading through the book of Genesis, a passage jumped out at me that I had overlooked before—Genesis 9:5.  Amazingly, this verse refers to the fact that animals themselves will be judged.  Getting a running start from verse 4, it reads like this:

“You must not eat meat that has its lifeblood still in it.  And for your lifeblood I will surely demand an accounting.  I will demand an accounting from every animal.  And from each man, too, I will demand an accounting for the life of his fellow man” [my italics]  

That’s the New International Version of the Bible.  Several other translations instead refer to animals giving a “reckoning,” and some use the term “punish.”  But what is consistent in each translation I’ve seen is a sense of something like moral culpability and judgment.  Now some folks could read too much into this and erroneously infer that animals are on the same moral plane as humans.  Clearly, we can’t run to that extreme given the unique standing of human beings as divine image bearers (cf. Gen. 1:27).  Still, it seems noteworthy that God will judge animals in this regard (and that God would make special note of this in Scripture).  This appears to be one more biblical reinforcement of the moral significance of animals.

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Green Grass and Rocky Deserts

By Amy Spiegel

A few years back, I did a Bible study on the life of Moses. Throughout the study, I struggled with a bit of snobbery against the Israelites who seemed like the most pathetic band of “stiff-necked” people ever collected. God turns the Nile into blood, sends a variety of pests to plague the Israelites’ oppressors, and tops it off with the incredible deliverance of the firstborn sons of his people. Then He sends them off into the desert and at the first sign of trouble, they panic and say they wish they were back on the brick-making assembly line. Granted, the first sign of trouble was the entire Egyptian army herding them into the Red Sea.  Nevertheless…this event does not bode well for the Israelites’ journey to the Promised Land and what might have been a quick trip there turns into a disaster that makes National Lampoon’s Family Vacation look like a dream excursion and highlights the need to consult Mapquest before setting out on any journey. This pattern of miraculous works followed by tests of faith is repeated throughout all of their sad wanderings to the point where one considers taking Moses aside and saying “Maybe you should reconsider God’s offer to, shall we say, wipe the slate clean with this lot and start afresh.” Seriously, herding cats would have to be a more rewarding vocation. But eventually they arrive in Canaan, establish the nation of Israel and begin their whole dysfunctional pattern again:  miraculous deliverance, test of faith, scoring a big “F” on the test, divine discipline, repentance, miraculous deliverance, and so on. 1500 years later, enter Jesus. Sent as the ultimate Savior, foreshadowed by Moses, he collects a group of followers who seem to be direct descendants of the knuckleheads who gave Moses such a hard time. Obviously, Jesus had the whole “omniscience” thing going on, so at this point one has to begin to question God’s purpose rather than the knuckleheads’ capacity for understanding.

There is definitely a temptation to feel a sense of superiority in reading about the Israelites’ rebellion issues or the Gospels’ descriptions of the disciples’ lack of comprehension (I mean, really guys, I understand when Jesus says “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up” that there might be some room for interpretation, but when He says “The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life,” did that really leave you scratching your heads and thinking “Hmmm, wonder what He means by that?) I have often wished to be among the few who traveled in the desert with Moses, waiting for that moment when he draws the line in the sand (literally) proclaiming “Whoever is for the LORD, come to me.” I am so ridiculously (and unrealistically) confident that I would be among the first to jump aboard the Moses Express to Godly Obedience. I have also fantasized, as perhaps many of you have, about being among Jesus’ disciples. Maybe not one of the twelve, but somewhere in the back row, waiting for a characteristically cryptic Jesus question, ready to raise my hand in fine Sunday School fashion and yell “Oh, oh! I know!”

Something has recently struck me though in regards to my desire to experience the stories of the Bible first hand. According to the Savior I so desire to see, I am in a better spot today. When speaking of His ascension, Jesus says He is going away so that the Holy Spirit can come. It doesn’t appear that He was giving us something second best, a sort of spiritual teddy bear to keep us company until He gets back. If we believe the doctrine of the Trinity, He is giving us something equally good. So why do I begrudgingly accept the indwelling of God as if this were a consolation prize? I suppose it has a great deal to do with the limitations of our physicality. We have a great deal of difficulty valuing the unseen over the material. And yet, perhaps the Israelites would lie in their tents at night whispering, peering over to our side of the fence, saying “If only we had God living inside our hearts rather than in the tabernacle. Then we could obey.” I suppose it is our nature to constantly suffer from the “grass is always greener” syndrome. Fortunately, however, we all will someday meet in the middle and bask in the eternal glory of God where all good things meet. In heaven, by God’s grace, I will kiss the feet of Jesus, and the Israelites, who, despite their bad sense of direction, have beaten me there by a few thousand years, will get their indwelling Spirit. Until then, I will try to be content with my allotted grass and look forward to greener pastures ahead rather than longing to be back in rocky deserts.

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Hell and the Undermining of Heavenly Happiness

By Jim Spiegel

Lately, I’ve been pondering some of Thomas Talbott’s arguments against the traditional doctrine of hell (in his 1990 Faith and Philosophy essay “The Doctrine of Everlasting Punishment”).  He makes many interesting points, both in criticism of eternal conscious torment and in defense of universalism.  One of the things he discusses is how damnation of the lost will affect those who go to heaven.  I’m sure that most Christians have wondered how we could be truly happy in heaven if we knew that some of our loved ones were suffering the agonies of hell.  Talbott addresses a few popular lines of response to this problem.

First, some argue that when we get to heaven we will be see the justice in God’s damnation of our loved ones, so it won’t cause us sorrow or otherwise undermine our happiness.  But Talbott notes that seeing the justice in our loved ones’ punishment would not eliminate the sadness of their plight.  After all, even when our loved ones suffer just punishment in this life, we are still reasonably sorrowful about it.  Moreover, we could still regret that God did not move in the hearts of our loved ones to prompt repentance in them as he did those of us who are redeemed.

A second way of dealing with this problem is to propose that God will change our attitude towards our lost loved ones.  In short, God will turn our love for them into hatred.  We will despise them for their wickedness, just as God does (assuming that God truly hates those he damns, as the traditional view seems to entail). This approach is even more problematic, however, since (1) God commands us to love others, even our enemies, and (2) our love for those closest to us is so tied up with who we are that to so dramatically change such attitudes and affections would be to fundamentally alter one’s character.

So if these lines of response are of no help in explaining how we could be happy in heaven despite the on-going agonies of some of our loved ones, then what alternative explanation is more promising?  If there are no better approaches, then chalk this up as another point against the doctrine of eternal conscious torment.  

Talbott recognizes that affirming the eventual annihilation of the damned does circumvent this problem, which is somewhat of a relief to me, as a conditional immortalist.  Still, his analysis left me wondering whether even conditional immortalism supplies a sufficient shield against this problem.  After all, might we not also be saddened that some of our loved ones were destroyed and that we will never see them again?  This, too, appears to undermine our heavenly happiness.  Clearly, the problem is not as severe for conditional immortalism as it is for the traditional view of hell.  Given conditionalism, at least the sufferings of your loved ones will eventually end.  Not so for the traditionalist, whose loved ones’ unspeakable agony will continue for eternity.